


queen to end all queens

by NerumiH



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: F/M, kinda just a wander through a few weeks in dito's dumb life, pre-game, sass???, semi-explicit sex?, shocking this isn't angst, stands alone in the tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerumiH/pseuds/NerumiH
Summary: “It’s easier, you see, if you just accept it. The way things are. They are making the world into a new image, and this is the role we play.”- the suite life of dito & five





	queen to end all queens

**.1.**

Five chose the sea despite his complaints, because of course she did. Like he needed more excuses to hate her. This particular offense slots into his head, crowded among the others, already generating a century’s worth of whines.

While Five orders servants to be gentle while filling her closet, Dito says, “Don’t come bitching to me if you hate it after a week, that’s all I ask.”

“Dito, why would I hate it?” she simpers, trailing a hand on a silk, mold-blue dress that passes by. “There’s just so much to see here! I’ll definitely have to walk you down to the beaches later.” Her eyes glimmer. “I bet everything’s _so_ beautiful at sunset. Just like a painting! Oh, do you think there are any artists to spare in the city? I’ll have to send for one. Imagine my portrait, all haloed by the light off the water…I bet this sea air is doing wonders for my skin, too.”

“I think you should deal with the whole dead militia downstairs before you start thinking about _paintings_.”

“No, no.” Five grabs his arms and pulls him out of the sofa he’d prayed he could disappear into. She grins. Positively salacious. “I have my _own_ militia now to deal with that! That means I get more time to enjoy things for myself…including getting more time with you.”

“ _Ugh_. I should’ve let myself die in the coup.”

“Now, Dito.” Her face gets as serious as it possibly can, which isn’t much, considering all the dust flying around behind her eyes. But when she gets this close to him, he automatically pays attention. She even grabs hold of his jaw, grip strangling. “This is my kingdom now. And I want things to go just the way I want them. And that includes _you_.”

He smiles sarcastically. “I figured you liked my smart mouth.”

“And I do.” Obnoxiously, she squishes his cheeks a bit. “But things go my way now. Okay?”

 _They always have_. “Whatever you say.”

**.2.**

Having him meet her sisters seems to be high on Five’s list of priorities, and Five’s alone.

It takes a month of clumsy, air-headed rule over the Seas for her to pull one of her sisters out of the ether. Dito can tell that this isn’t what sister number Four wanted to do. They’ve got politics to hash out. Armies to divvy. Five _bemoans_ her sister’s seriousness, that they’re finally together after so long to have a little _fun,_ and Dito thinks this sister must therefore have some fucking sense to her – until he’s faced with her disciple.

Shame, that – no brains _or_ looks. Surely the pickings weren’t _that_ slim.

Five shoos them into the den together. “We’ll only be a few moments. Don’t miss me too much!”

Dito keeps a scrutinizing eye on the other disciple – did someone say his name? – while the guy lowers his great girth into the parlour’s under-stuffed sofa. An absolute meathead. His spectacles are flecks of glass in the crinkled fist of his face. Maybe Dito’s expression is doing something weird, because Five leans down and stage-whispers at his ear, “And play gently.”

“Always do.”

“If you don’t cause any trouble,” she says, and he can feel the warm of her teeth on his temple, her words tainted sugary from her smile, and he knows the words before she says them, “I’ll make a _nice_ reward for you, okay, Dito?”

He gives a noncommittal sound. The other disciple’s beady eyes are looking anywhere but at them, like he’s a lapdog thrown into a wild pack. Good. Dito seriously hates when people see Five treating him like this. Sure, a disciple would _get_ it, would understand why he just sits and endures it, but he really doesn’t feel any better knowing he’s part of a clan of boot-lickers. He’s _not_ like them.

Five says, “Okay, Dito?” Her voice prompting, impatient, as good as a finger poking at his ribs.

“Can the reward be a few hours of your goddamn silence?”

Meathead’s eyebrows furrow. Five gives him a little smack on the arm and affronts a gasp. “Now, what naughty words!”

“I – “

The opposite door opens; Four pops her head in. Her angelic little face is pinched. Some girlish impression of fury. She trills, “I don’t have all day, Five. Stop – stop messing around!”

“I only wish to mess with _you_ , big sister!” Five sing-songs, then cheerily kisses Dito’s cheek too many times (jerking his head back like he’s being smacked) before hurrying to Four.

Four’s sugary-sweet voice calcifies. “This is a _serious_ responsibility. You know, if I really wanted to, I bet I could tell One that you’re not doing your job.” Her voice drops under her breath. “And you’re still an absolute ditz.”

Five gasps theatrically. “But I _am_ doing my job! Haven’t you seen what I’ve changed? What I’ve done? We can go _tour_ , sister, it’d be way more interesting than talking in some stuffy room. How about we bring our boys along?” She tousles her hair, tilting her head towards the boar of a man taking up half the room. “Hmm, what’s his name again…?”

Four says, flustered, “Decadus doesn’t matter. He’s staying here.”

“Ah, on rental? I can think of some uses for him – “

“Come _on,_ Five.”

The Intoners vanish into the opposite room, Four primly closing the door. Dito realises he’s starved for companionship with someone with half a brain, because he would seriously engineer some swap between him and Decadus if he gets to be with the Intoner that called Five a ditz.

He’s only met One, and she’s pretty level-headed, so she wouldn’t let slip that word. He could tell she wanted to, though. He wonders if they all hate little sister Five. That’s four against one. Maybe if she did something _really_ abhorrent, something not entirely unguided by his hand, they’d overthrow her, stick her on a pike… Dito sets his chin in his hands. A boy can dream.

They’ve got tea between them on the low table. The pot is steaming like crazy, sweating onto the tablecloth, probably a trillion degrees too hot. Dito should warn the guy as he self-consciously reaches for it that anything approved by Five out of the kitchens is possibly unfit for human consumption, but Dito figures it isn’t worth the effort. Maybe Five will have messed with her favourite mushrooms again and the guy will get sick, and Dito will get _some_ entertainment.

Dito says, “I hear your Intoner’s kind of a frigid bitch.” He can hear Five’s voice, before they met the family, adjusting his shirt collar after staining it with her lipstick. _My little sister, ahh…she’s not like me. She doesn’t like the finer things in life. Food, excitement, danger… Not men, not even women! Maybe she’s just so self-conscious of that boyish body of hers. She shouldn’t be. Anyone can be cute, you know, dressed up the right way…She just needs to fix herself up…_ “Is she always that short with you?”

Decadus’s voice is voice low and tremulous. “My lady is under a lot of stress at the moment. Her behaviour is…atypical.”

“I don’t think Five knows what stress is.” He squirms uncomfortably. “Or frigid. _Bitch_ , she’s got down pat. She could be a scholar of bitchiness. _Magna cum laude_ in cunt.”

Decadus looks like he’s trying to pour tea cups from a doll set, and his hands are boxing gloves. “It’s unwise to say such things about your lady, Dito – “

“Okay, shut _up,_ lughead. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Dito watches as Decadus flinches from the scalding pot and tea spots the lacy tablecloth. “I mean, come on. You’re miserable too, right?”

He doesn’t know what answer he wants. If it’s _no,_ then that’d piss him off – why is Dito the poor bastard who gets the short end of the stick? If it’s _yes_ – then he’s just another one in a train of fucking boot-lickers getting their asses kicked by these insane goddesses. And there’s no way Decadus is as miserable as Dito. Just no way.

Decadus shakes his head. “My lady knows what is best for me. Our relationship – “

“What kind of a relationship do you even have? She’s celibate, and you’re good for nothing else!” Right? _Right_? No way does everyone else get to do things that Dito doesn’t. He spits, exasperated, agitatedly getting to his feet, “I fucking swear, if you tell me there’s some _other_ point to them owning us, other than _this,_ I’ll cut out your tongue.”

Decadus straight-up drops the cup.

“What are you so flustered for?”

“It’s only – a little uncouth to threaten one another in a home – with those words, so easy in their cruelty…”

“I’m not super keen on playing nice, that’s all.” Especially if it keeps him from getting one of Five’s _rewards._

Dito grins. Decadus doesn’t look at him, too busy mopping up the spilled tea with a sleeve. Decadus is way too musclebound, like tank tyres are wrapped around his oversize body, fit to split like overfilled grain sacks at any moment.

Four is celibate. These two tear through the mountains, raiding camps, blowing up tunnels. He knows, he’s seen the reports. Celibate, but not _innocent_. God. If only Dito was so lucky as to end up with her. Dignified, if a little shrill. Not a complete brainless pervert, if a little boring.

Then Decadus says, “It’s easier, you see, if you just accept it. The way things are. They are making the world into a new image, and this is the role we play.”

“Are you _kidding_?”

“We are made for the Intoners, that’s all I – “

He takes the steaming pot of tea and twists off the top, volcanic steam hitting him full in the face. His breath is thinning a little. He _likes_ when Five isn’t around. “Right. Tell me that again, you fucking freak?”

Decadus’s eyes go to the pot, whatever expression is still on Dito’s face, the hot tea on his hand, and then his thighs press protectively together –

Dito snarls, delighted, “Oh my _god_.”

“Dito!”

Unconsciously, his hand opens. It’s a stupid move from Five: the pot hits the edge of the table and spills in a great splash on the both of them, as well as the furniture. It’s scalding – Dito cries out, jumping back, and Decadus makes little move to avoid it like he’d _wanted_ it. Five hurries in, practically picking him up to get him out of the way.

“It’s water!” Dito snaps. “It’s literally hot water; I’m not gonna die!”

Four is at the doorway, pinching her nose in a practiced way – One’s way. She looks exhausted and her cheeks are flushed. Five sets Dito on the couch. She grabs his chin, her long, manicured nails biting into the skin. Her eyes meet his. Gold and depthless. It takes just a few moments, then the anger and frustration and the thrill leaks out of him like she’s cut a blister.

She very lightly smacks his cheek. “Bad,” she says. “You’re always so bad.”

For just a second, the most annoying part is that she’s acting like he stole a taste of cake batter. _Bad._ She’s got blinders on when it comes to him, but somehow that doesn’t mean he gets away with anything.

Four says, regathering herself, “I’m going back to my room.”

_No, don’t leave, don’t leave –_

“And figure out what you want from this country, Five!”

**.3.**

They’re in their bedroom, Five binding his wrists while some hapless servant is tasked with going through Dito’s wardrobe and finding something that Five thinks is suiting. They’re all going to have dinner together. She’s gotten him out of the wet trousers and socks and everything else, so he’s seated in just his black blouse, trying to subtly pull the tail of the fabric over his crotch.

She’d made a big deal on the way up about how nearly throwing hot water on someone is such a disgrace to her guests (he didn’t even do it!), and how he obviously just wants attention, _don’t I give you enough attention, bunny? How about next time, you just ask?_

Five is lamenting, “What _do_ I want from this country, Dito?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Dito tries to untie her knots with his teeth, but she’s fucking military. The servant comes out with a waistcoat in hand – Five waves him off before he can even present it. Dito says, “Wild guess would be, like, security. Education. A generally stable source of food? I’m just spit-balling.”

“Four makes it sound so easy…”

Five sighs, throwing herself back on the bed, hair spilling out in a dramatic sheet and her tits practically suffocating her. “I really want everyone to love this country as much as I do, you know? I want this to be a paradise. Can you imagine…? People would come here from all across the world, just to see _my_ ocean, eat _my_ food, indulge in my pleasures… But for now, it’s all a little drab, hmm?”

For some goddamn reason, Five is rubbing his thigh with her foot. He edges away. “They’d have more to celebrate about if you didn’t take it all for yourself.”

Literally just ignores him. “Maybe the people need some inspiration.”

“I think they need an economy.” Why is he bothering?

“Well, the economy has to start with _something!”_ Five slides her foot between his thighs. The hose is scratchy. He grabs her ankle, fumbling with the bindings. She continues, “What do you think they’d like? I hear old countries used to have incredible sports competitions! Or festivals all about food? Or, well, it’s always been said that the oldest profession is prostitution. What about I set up some brothels?”

Dito snaps at the closet, “Are you lost in there, man?”

The servant darts out, a new outfit on hand. Five waves her hand at him without looking at it. “That’ll do. Go away.”

Dito sees where this is going. “No, Five, you know it’s a pain in the ass to manage all those buttons on my own. _Stay_ ,” he snaps to the servant. He looks positively stunned now. “Stay.”

Five purrs, “Ah, do you want him to join us, Dito?”

“I didn’t say – “

“Any other time, maybe, but I really want to spend time with _you._ ” Five rolls onto her side, breasts spilling out of her dress’s daring neckline. Her foot dips under his knee, so she can tip his leg up and open.

“You’re impossible,” he breathes.

“You’re _naughty_. Don’t think I forgot!”

Dito watches as Five waves off the servant and he scurries haplessly from the room. Every man but Dito is so excited to fuck her. He’s overheard it, in the training yards – it’s a great honour to be picked for her liaisons. Men leave dazed and happy, wrung dry, with all the gossip to tell their buddies. Some are lying. Not because they didn’t like it – jeez, they always like it, these brainless idiots, blinded under her song and their own pathetic taste. But every once in a while Five gets all faux-concerned that Dito isn’t interested anymore, that Dito’s _bored_ , so she arranges for a pretty young man to be swept from the fields for him.

It’s awkward. It’s kind of humiliating. Having some guy enter their rendezvous, practically frothing at the mouth, until Five insists no, no, this is for my disciple. Murmuring that Dito can look like a girl, too; he makes sounds like a girl, if you’re so close-minded. They look _mortified_.

It’s only bad for a little. Five likes to watch, but not for long. Eventually the guy gets his turn with her; Dito’s just the unfortunate appetizer no one wants.

He lets her tug him onto the pillows and sit up beside him, easily pinning his bound hands above his head. There’s a ravenous look to her, but it’s weird that she’s searching his face rather than anywhere else. Her fingers tug open every last button of his shirt. Her hand, a little cold, flares on his stomach, her thumb tracing his hip bone.

She says softly, “Decadus behaves _very_ well. That’s what Four tells me. She says he’s a perfectly obedient disciple and does all she asks, no matter how difficult.” She trails her nails up his stomach, his chest. For once, he hopes she keeps talking – it’s a good distraction, that grating sound of her voice, the illogical hoops her thoughts barrel through while he tries to keep up.

He says, “How about a little swap, for just a bit? You like mixing things up.”

Five pouts. “Four is so stingy. She won’t keep you satisfied like I do.”

“Yeah, sure. But did you see _him_?” Dito grins. “I bet he’s hung like a horse.”

“Oh, stop it.” She pinches his nipple hard enough that he flinches. A strange softness floods over her twisted features – it’s easier when he thinks she’s ugly, but she isn’t. She leans down, kisses him, a kiss he’s memorized for all its insistence and wetness and teeth, and lightly smacks the back of his thigh. She murmurs, “Don’t joke about leaving me, you terrible little thing.”

He hates the shudder of heat that travels down his stomach; her hand has wrapped around him. Surely by this point his body would have given up on animal instinct and understood that he hates this. But maybe it’s like how she made him drop the teapot: she’s orchestrating everything. Sure, she’s very pretty on the outside, he can admit that to himself. Because all the rot’s _inside_.

**.4.**

Five’s paralyzed by choice. The week following Four and what’s-his-face’s departure, she literally opens democratic campaigns for people to say what they want for the country. It’s ridiculous.

Dito hangs out at the barracks while fleets of soldiers go out to harass the populace. They’re already dizzy from their shithead dictator dying not that long ago, and the civil unrest that followed – he’s pretty sure they’re going to get more spit on their faces than real answers.

Dito watches them go. So much muscle. So much willing obedience wasted on so much idiocy.

Then in the empty space, he practices fencing training dummies. Not like he has much else to do. Five, _thank god_ , likes to take him along on missions sometimes, the real bloody ones. He hates being in the fucking god-awful wilderness with her, the food is rank, the sleep is restless, and the sex is messy, but it feels kinda nice to get to kill things. That’s one thing he’ll share with his Intoner.

He’s on high alert for the militia to come back, so Dito freezes when he hears footsteps in the courtyard. It’s a small cordoned-off area, and usually people know to stay away when he’s here – Five has said very clearly that no one gets to bother Dito. He’s her possession; hurting him is like hurting her. He’d toyed with that a couple times. Made up some stories about some servant or soldier or whatnot. Really played it up. He likes to think his name is somehow scrawled on the corpses that were thrown into the sea.

Maybe he’ll let them cause trouble with him. What’d it hurt? He’d get to stab something real.

The footsteps pace back and forth. Dito huffs and seeks them out, propping his sword on his shoulder. “Come on out,” he calls. “You wanna try to get me to give you Five’s special permission, too?”

Peeking around a doorframe, he practically smacks into the offender. Dito is quick to spin the sword before him and shove the person back. With the blunt face. No sense making a mess yet.

It’s a young man, definitely dressed too flashy to be a part of the militia or the city – a theatre, maybe. He holds his hands up. Grin tipping on his face. His dark hair is an utter glossy mess. Dito scowls. He’s already getting douche-chills from this guy.

“Tourists can’t come in here.”

“Oh, I’m not a tourist. Don’t you worry, little man.” For fuck’s sake, he has Five’s swaying cadence. “Just scouting the place.”

“You’re scouting the army barracks, numbnuts.” Dito sighs, and puts the sword back on his shoulder. This guy won’t hurt him. He looks like he’d be distracted by a flashy necklace.

“The militia is often corrupt,” the guy says, like it’s such a dreary fact.

“Yeah, let me deal with my own militia, how about?”

His eyebrows lift, and his gaze is absolutely scrutinizing, like he’s discovered something on the bottom of his shoe. “You don’t mean to say…? _You’re_ a disciple?”

This guy is a disciple too? Whose? Did Five mention they were anticipating another visit from her sisters? She’d whined the other day that Four wrote to her, saying she wasn’t planning on coming back for a long while. Three never responds to her letters – _too busy with her science. What self-respecting woman bothers with **science**?_ – and One doesn’t have a disciple.

Dito says slowly, “I’m Five’s.”

“Lady Two does often say that Five has weird tastes! And, silly me, I thought she just meant with food.” He affects a dark chuckle. “Okay, move along. I just want to keep a watchful eye on every step Lady Two makes. Can never be too careful with our darling, beauteous charges, now can we?”

_Two got the most handsome of all of you! She just rushed up and snagged him right away, the greedy little thing! I wanted him too. You know how I like pretty things. But then I saw you, and I thought, there’s my little doll. That one is perfect and has to be for me._

“Shit. You’re Cent.”

“The one and only!”

**.5.**

They’re all crammed onto the balcony of Five’s dining room, the table brought outside. Two and Five are just _gushing_ over the meal selection like they’ve literally never heard of cooking before. Dito keeps loudly gagging, and asking the waiters in increasing tones – “What is this? Do you even know? Do the cooks know? _Two_ brought this all the way from fucking **_where_**? Man, you know what, never mind. If something here poisons me, it’ll be a kindness.” Not even Five would screw him when he’s vomiting. Or when he’s dead.

Two and Cent are wound tightly together, their arms around each other. This would be average-level gross, except that Five sees this, and like a wild animal, decides that it’s a competition. Five has to prove that she and Dito are super-duper-in-love too. She keeps feeding him. Kissing his cheek. Very pointedly putting her hand between his thighs, and giggling at him, because Five doesn’t understand restraint – or, really, much of gooey romance, even though Two and Cent are putting it on display _right there._

Two says, “Cent told me that he saw a lot of your soldiers out in the town, Five! What’s that about?” Her eyes grow large, and she practically flexes her muscles. “Is there trouble?”

Dito mumbles into his glass of wine, “Like she’d know if there was.”

Five waves her hand, her million gaudy bracelets jingling. “No, no! The opposite! I’m asking my people what they want most out of their new world. I want to be sure that I can build something that everyone will love.”

Two puts a hand to her heart. “You’re so smart, Five! That’s so generous of you!” She reaches over the hill of sandworm meat and pats her sister’s arm. “I knew you’d do so well once we left you on your own.”

Five theatrically sniffles. “Four was so impatient with me. She said I was always the most reckless sister.”

“Well, you are!” Two laughs, flapping her hands frantically at Five’s hurt expression. “But that can be good, too. I don’t think anyone would think of doing the things you do.” Two’s gentle face becomes earnest. “I’m so proud of you. One…she’ll be so proud of you.”

Dito rolls his eyes. Cent catches it. Smirks at him. He’s playing with Two’s hair, gives it a little tug, like ringing a bell – she swivels and playfully pushes his chest. “Come on, Cent! Do you have something to say?”

“I just can’t keep this conversation…I can’t keep it straight. I’m so distracted by you.” He nuzzles her hair. More giggles. Dito loudly clears his throat and excuses himself, but Five grabs his wrist and tugs him back down. Kisses him full on the mouth. He nearly pushes her, but realises that she probably sees it like Two and Cent do. He snaps at her – he’s teasing. He shoves her – he’s being playful. _Don’t touch me_ means _touch me more._

Everything is so goddamn impossible.

**.6.**

He wastes one of his free-pass tokens that night, making a very good show of how he’s feeling so _sick, Five, I really feel like death warmed over. You’re sure everything was edible?_

He’d figured this was a good precaution. God knows what she’d put him through when she’s feeling _romantic._ Unfortunately, she still won’t just fucking _go away._

She sits with him at the side of the bed, petting his hair and cooing. “I really like taking care of you.”

He hums mildly.

“You don’t really let me that often, you know? You have servants to dress you and help you in the bath.”

“That’s you. I’m kinda low-maintenance.”

“Oh, fine.” She smiles warmly down at him. Twirls his hair in her fingers, like Cent did to Two. “You still don’t let me. Not much. The most I usually get to is, ah, afterwards.” How chaste of her to say. “When I get to clean you up and hear your breathing go back to normal. That’s nice. Don’t you think that’s nice?”

“Just glad it’s over.”

“You…” Five sighs. “You think you’d be just fine on your own, don’t you?”

“Something on your mind, Five?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. He closes his eyes and turns his face into the pillow, so it’s a little hard to breathe, but at least he’s feeling something other than Five’s fingers on his scalp.

She sighs again. A heavy, dramatic sound.

Dito offers, “Two and Cent, huh?” He knew they’d screw him over somehow.

She tumbles onto the bed, the weight of her jostling him, and she cuddles up against his back. Her long nails press into his back. Her hot breath is damp on the back of his neck; he tugs the blanket higher. Five moans, “My sisters all have shiny new lives now! They have new castles, and all these new toys, and money, and men.”

He’s surprised he’s actually offended, but Dito snaps, “Sorry, and you just have _me?”_

“I don’t mean that! I’m just sad that everything is working out for my sisters and it seems so difficult for me. Why do you think that is? Is it because I’m not willing to compromise? Compromising is such a waste of time. Someone always loses something.” She pokes glyphs between his shoulders. “ _We_ don’t compromise. I give you everything, and you give me everything. Is that how it works with Two and Cent?”

“Nah, I think he’s gotten rid of a lot for her.” Namely his balls.

“I don’t like sacrifice,” she continues. “Lots of people don’t have a lot of time on earth, Dito, and don’t you think it’s within their rights to have everything they want? Just a little taste of it, before it’s too late?”

“Bold words from a murderer.”

He can practically hear the pout: “There are always exceptions. I hope they had fine lives, but for me and my people and _you_ to have what we deserve, they had to go away. I know…that’s so unfair. But greater good and all that…” Five huffs. He hears the drag of her hair on the sheets as she runs her fingers through it. “My goodness! This is why ruling is so hard.”

They lapse into silence; he can’t knock free the echo of one thing: _You think you’d be just fine on your own, don’t you?_

Stupid of her, to totally miss the point like that. Sure. He’d be fine. Find a place in this shit stain of a world, probably far, far away from the reek of the sea. But he can’t. He’s a disciple. Who’s ever heard of a disciple without their Intoner?

What was he before Five? Anything? Anything at all?

He feels suffocated. If there’s nothing before, maybe there can be nothing after.

She says, “I’ll give you everything. I’ll make this rule perfect for _us_.”

She’s pressing close. He just wants some time alone, even if it’s to sleep. He hates, he _hates,_ when she shows that there’s more to her than some feather-brained nympho.

Dito angles away from her, and shoves his fingers down his throat. He vomits off the edge of the bed before self-preservation can stop him. Five sits up with a gasp. She says hurriedly, “I’ll get a medic.”

She’s gone in an instant. Dito spits until his mouth is clean, changes his shirt, and hurries out the door. He’s got better things to do than listen to her.

**.7.**

The impression that Cent isn’t _that_ stupid and that Cent isn’t _that_ handsome is a temperamental, touchy balance. Every time he’s looking particularly sharp and pretty, he says something fucking stupid. Every time he seems halfway intelligent, Dito thinks he’s awful plain. And no matter what and when and how, Dito always has to wrangle the urge to punch him.

Two trusts Cent to participate in the serious political conversations, so that means Dito gets to sit in on a lot more of them too. It’s halfway interesting. Five’s trying so hard to be interested that she sometimes even forgets to paw at him, so that’s a plus. Meanwhile, Cent’s across the table, completely unperturbed by Dito telling him to stop fucking staring like he’s got a lobotomy, or theatrically clapping and ahh-ing when Cent contributes some nonsense to the discussion.

It happens, of course. Maybe he looks too long at Cent, too many times. But when Two isn’t around, Five asks Cent if he’d like to join her and Dito.

Dito blanches, mortified. Cent remains his usual: like the lights aren’t all on upstairs.

Five coos, “Really, monogamy is so dull. Men just weren’t made for it. And it won’t be anything serious, don’t worry!” She rests her dagger-manicured fingers on Cent’s chest, at the peak of that strange tattoo. “You won’t be breaking my sister’s heart.”

Cent politely takes her hand. “I appreciate the offer, Lady Five! I can only assume your tastes are of the highest esteem – “ Dito snorts, “so consider me flattered!” He squeezes her hand and lets it go.

Dito figures it’s over, but then he registers Five’s face. Her smile has frozen on her lips. She says, “I insist, Cent. Why not take the opportunities you’re given? That would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?”

Cent is all airy chuckles, but his voice tightens on the edges: “You misunderstand. I’d _surely_ be breaking Lady Two’s heart.”

“That’s not nice of her…to make you sacrifice your happiness because of a brittle heart.” Five pouts. Her eyes are steady on Cent’s; he can’t look away. “What do _you_ want, Cent?”

“Five,” Dito says, “maybe cool it?”

Five moves closer to Cent; she’s taller than him, a sharpened glitter moving over her gaze. “What do _you want?”_

Dito realises she’s trying to compel him. An Intoner has some influence over the movements of their disciple; it’s why he dropped the teapot, why he doesn’t slit her throat, why he whimpers and comes on command. Can she compel someone else’s disciple?

God. He hopes so.

Maybe she’ll snatch Cent away. He’d probably be a lot more amusing than Dito. The kind of disciple who’ll feed her cherries by the stem and rub her back and tell her how beautiful she is. Five is greedy for everything, most of all attention. She doesn’t deserve it, but _Dito_ deserves some peace.

Cent blinks, and his pretty mouth splits in a lazy, apologetic smile. “I’m honoured to have caught the attentions of such a goddess, Lady Five. But I’ll have to turn the offer down.” He steps back meaningfully and some of the airy cadence to his voice is lost when he says, “For the last time.”

He turns down the hall. Five’s fists clench. Dito’s voice is shivery with an abated laugh: “What a dumbass.”

Five stomps her foot, a soft growl in her throat. She doesn’t like not getting what she wants. And this is finally something Dito wanted her to have. In their own private time, him very far away.

Or…maybe he’d be there. Maybe with the feeling of that weird, gnarled stitching pressing against his back…can he tug the stitching loose? Is the skin underneath shiny and pink like a fresh scar, or gory, crusted with dry blood? He can’t even imagine what it’d feel like to peel off that tattoo, so his mind runs it over and over, like a jammed machine.

Five says carefully, “Two is so unfair.”

“You could ask her, maybe?”

She looks suddenly thoughtful. “I don’t know; you’d be all right with two women?”

“I meant ask her to ask _Cent._ Ugh, you’re so gross, Five.”

Five nods, her curls bouncing. “Good idea, Dito. You’re so smart.”

That’ll at least keep her busy.

**.8.**

“Lady Five is really something, hmm?” Cent asks. Dito found him in the parlour, presumably passing by and then distracted by his reflection above the fireplace, where he’s now fixing his hair. “She’d have better luck asking such _obscene_ things of Lady Three’s disciple.”

Dito says, “You should really just sleep with her.”

“The politics of sex are for the old world. You know, mistresses and maidens, riches and secrets for sensuality…”

“Don’t be a dumbass. Do me this favour.”

“Well, you could ask nicely.”

Dito deadpans, “Pretty, pretty, please.”

“No, thank you.” Cent opens his hands, shrugging; everything he does seems like he’s projecting it from a stage. “What’s one or twenty liaisons with the woman you don’t love? It’s heartless for everyone involved.”

“Has anyone ever said that listening to you makes them want to put your head in a thresher?”

“No?”

“Funny. The urge is nearly unbearable.”

“Look,” Cent says, approaching Dito with that annoying swagger, “I know you’re just trying to do what she wants; what’s best for her. The insatiable appetite of an Intoner is world-renowned! Poets write of it! And _we_ are the meal. Ever replenishing, ever changing to their tastes.” Cent grabs Dito’s jaw. The gesture lasts all of a second before Dito punches him in the ribs and Cent doubles back, laughing, hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

“Great analogy. Say _you’re_ the roast pig. Everyone gets a bite, huh?”

“Now, if you want me to kiss you, Dito, just say so.”

Dito groans. “Not me, you idiot. Five. Can’t you keep her company for a little?”

Cent hums. He taps his chin. “You mean to say…?”

“Lemme rephrase so you can get it.” Dito says exaggeratedly slow, “I want her…and I…to be far, _far_ apart for a while.”

Cent’s eyes light up. “Absence makes the heart grow stronger!”

“…Fonder?”

“You want to mix things up, physically, and emotionally, hmm?”

“Whatever you say.”

Cent looks absolutely devious all of a sudden, the gears turning in his head. “Once, Lady Two and I had to split up in order to complete a mission to our best ability. See, it involved two different towns, and – “

Dito huffs, sinking into the sofa. “Do you have a point?”

“And so after a day or two apart, well, we could hardly stand it! I was so occupied by thoughts of how lovely Lady Two was, and how much I missed her, and how I wished I could be near her – “ Cent lifts his hand and snaps. “Well, once we were back together, it was like a whole new relationship. That’s what you want?”

Dito mutters, “You’re insufferable.”

That’s totally not what he wants. If Five was sensible, then some time without him would teach her the opposite: she’d see how much Dito didn’t care, how rude he was, how sharp his teeth were. But Five’s a fucking idiot, just like Cent.

**.9.**

Dito considers sleeping outside or in one of the run-down hostels in town, to avoid Five, but just like every other day of his stupid life, he ends up back at the castle. Five accosts him and hurries him into the bedchambers, holding his hands and bouncing around like a little girl – it’s a pretty obscene gesture on her.

“Don’t scramble what little brains you have left,” Dito says, but his voice emerges slyly. She seems pretty happy. Did Two actually…? Did _Cent_ …?

She says, “We got the results from the people! Finally, I can see what they want!”

“…Great, Five.”

She laughs, petting back his hair. “Call me _Lady_ Five. Isn’t it _so_ cute when Cent calls Two that?”

“You don’t seriously think we’re anything like them.”

“My idea worked so well. The soldiers say the people were so happy to be asked for their opinion. That’s a sign of the new world. I,” she grabs his hand and presses it between her breasts, “ _I_ started that.”

“I’m sure asking people their opinions has been a thing for a while, but okay.”

She squeezes his hand, and not in a cutesy way, not even in the accidentally overbearing way that Five sometimes does. It’s intentionally painful. Five holds his gaze and the feeling rises unbidden – at least he has some control over the exact words. “I’m proud of you, Five.”

“Lady Five,” she corrects.

It’s entirely his own voice that says, “Lady Five.”

“I decided we’ll go visit Three. She doesn’t like to send letters, and I _miss_ her.” Five toys with his fingers. “Two says she’s having some trouble connecting with her people, and I think if I bring her this idea, then everything will get sorted. I want her to have a strong rule too. She might just need a little nudge.”

She gives him an inviting smile, then takes his hand and leads him to the edge of the bed. She sits him there and starts playing with his hair. Tugging, like ringing a bell.

“So, uhm…how did asking Two go?”

“Oh, she got so bent out of shape.” Five rolls her eyes. “Don’t they understand, this is just like a meal, or a good time? I don’t love all the people I sleep with.” She gives him a coquettish smile. “They just don’t get it, not like us.”

“So no Cent?”

“Aww.” Five kisses his nose. “He was handsome, wasn’t he? I even mentioned how you were obviously interested in him to Two, but that didn’t sway her either…”

Dito blushes. Is that all him, or is that from her influence? Either way, knowing he’s flustered makes him even more flustered – _jeez, did I want Cent? No way._ “It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Besides that, he’s annoyed. He’s never going to get what he wants. Maybe he’ll pretend Five sent him to ask _again_ , so Two will lose her patience and kill Five.

As if.

“It’s just us again, my little bunny. But I don’t mind. You’re always my favourite.” She smiles that wicked smile, and then just when his stomach drops, she slides her thumb into his mouth. _God, god, god._ Her nail is long, sharp, a fang rattled loose in his mouth. Her other hand slides free the strap of her dress.

Dito bats her hand away. “You know what Cent told me?”

She coos, “Oh? What did you boys gossip about without me?”

“He said once he and Two…” Ugh, god, what was the rest of the story? He hadn’t really paid attention. He tries to dig up Cent’s annoying voice from where it’s been scraped into his skull. “They had to stay away from each other for a while, so –“

“Oh, how dreadful!” Five sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Dito onto her lap.

“So then when they actually got _back_ together, the sex was amazing!”

She hums. Thumb back in his mouth, scraping on his gums, making spit trickle down his narrow chin. Her big golden eyes grow sympathetic. “If they just put in enough effort while they were together, then it could _always_ be amazing. If they’d listened to each other. It’s very important to listen to your partner in the bedroom.”

The irony is painful, but what’s the point of arguing? Dito edges her hand away and says, “We could try that. Exercise _some_ restraint.”

“Restraint?” Five’s eyes light up. “I have – “

“No. I mean…not…doing this, for like…a week.”

“I like your creativity, but that just doesn’t work for me.” Five sighs, and orders his hands to slide her dress off her head, take their military places at her breasts, touch her until her sighs are more insistent. _This moron._ She says breathily, “I’ve already told you…why waste opportunities for excitement? Why waste any second of my life, keening and needing, when I have you right here…?”

“You’re missing the point, Five – “

She kisses him, heated and heavy. “No, _you are_. I told you what I achieved with the people, hmm?”

“Fooling them into thinking you’ll follow through with anything you say?”

He earns a bite for that. It’s harder than usual; his eye sparks tears before she lets go, licking and sucking to clean up the stinging mark. In between, she murmurs, “I really made a breakthrough. Yes, I’ve claimed the land and the castle…I killed the big bad guy…but now I…”

She’s winning. She’s starting something.

What does that mean for him?

He can feel his muscles falling out of his control. She slides him out of his shirt, then pushes his head down. Five, always impatient with foreplay. He obediently props on his knees on the ornate rug, her massive thighs framing him in, milk-white skin and then pitch-black stockings just above her knee. She sits above him, her long golden hair curtaining him in until he feels nearly claustrophobic.

She says carefully, “I’m not reckless _little sister_ anymore.”

She’s never been _little sister_ to him. She’s hardly had a family or a past. Just a ghoul come into his life to make it a literal hell – certainly, never fit for such a sweet little nickname as _little sister,_ which hissed even with the _most_ venom couldn’t match the poison he feels for her.

He’s played this role so many times; the costume may not be comfortable, but it’s at least soft from overuse. She noisy as ever. Something about touching her, maybe just being so close to her damn animal pheromone, makes need appear like a sweat all across his body. It’s the same fog to the air that makes him moan into her; makes him react. The pull of the Intoner, in her scream and in her whimper all the same.

_‘It’s easier, you see, if you just accept it.’_

And she whimpers, “Tell me, Dito – “

“What?” He puts up his head and digs his fingers into her meaty thighs. “That I fucking love you?”

She’s lying down by this point, chest heaving and shuddering obscenely, and he can just see the long column of her throat and the chisel of her chin. One arm above her head, one commanding in his hair. For a second he’s terrified she’ll say yes, because she’s made him do everything but love her, then she says, “Tell me I did it well.”

“Huh?”

“The – the kingdom – “

For fuck’s sake. Normal girls just want to be told they’re pretty – well, he assumes they do. Not like he has much experience with them. Dito groans instead of answering, and the vibrations make her writhe. The smell and mess of her is overwhelming in a bad way, but all the same he’s untucked himself from his trousers. He won’t touch himself, though. He’s a separate entity. If she wants to make his body do things, then so be it – he won’t help her along. He won’t involve himself more than he has to.

She moans, “ _Dito, please_ ,” and it sends a shiver down his back.

He grits his teeth and relents. Lifts up so he can snarl against her stomach, his hand making quick work of her. “You’re a queen, Five. You already knew that.”

“I like you for your sharp tongue.” She pulls his hair. Her breath is thinning. “You can do better.”

 _Evil bitch._ “Queen to end all queens, then. Queen to swallow all queens, and have everything they leave behind.”

A beat, a beat, then she screams, writhes, and floods into his palm. There’s a violent pull in his veins, his muscles, and a flash of stammered pleasure that comes too late to make him forget this is happening. Heat splatters on his thigh. She pulls him close, nestling his face between her sweaty breasts, until the taste goes tacky and bitter in his mouth. She holds him tight.

**.10.**

Cent and Two leave the next day, maybe scared off by Five’s advances. She isn’t pleased. Five, displeased, is not a happy sight for Dito. He usually deals with the buckshot of her tantrums alone, and no one else gives a shit, which is why they can leave so carelessly like this. Five’s pissed that they didn’t give her what she wanted.

_Queen to swallow all queens._

Queen to swallow the damn universe, if she really wanted to, and sometimes he thinks she wants to.

She’s in the parlour, her hands splayed on the table, reading through the compiled results from the people. Two had put notes all over the place, predicting costs, pointing to good ideas, worse ideas. Dito flips the letter opener in his hands until it blurs, and in between her crowing, he can hear the metal hiss in the air.

She’s pouting. “Two has no imagination,” she finally says.

 _Hiss. Smack,_ light in his palm. _Hiss._ Almost a song.

“What? She doesn’t like their ideas?”

“Nothing fun! Yes, okay, obviously, we can make a food bank for the unfortunate. We can increase military training and pay. That’s easy. But she advises against people wanting things – things that feel like home.” She leans across the table a little, weight of her breasts straining obviously against her dress. Turns the sheets towards him. “See…?”

“No…well, duh, we won’t fund an arts district.”

“But I want…”

“Let it go, Five.”

Her gaze flicks to his. The gold is harder than he’s used to in response to his sass. She says, “I can’t ignore it. This is what they _want._ And I’m their queen.”

“Do _I_ get whatever I want from you, then?”

_Hiss. Hiss. Smack._

He says, his teeth bared, “My queen?”

“You have a very nasty attitude tonight, Dito. If you’re feeling jumpy, I can bring in the lieutenant to put you in order.”

Yes, he’s jumpy. He’s agitated. He’s in the same place he was ages ago, when Decadus was here. Frustrated, restrained. And bored.

He’s absolutely bored of her.

He says a meek, “I’d like that,” and she grins like a snake. Then dips her head again. He flips the letter opener so it sits like a stinger protruding from his fist, and swings his arm at her head.

She’s unbelievably fast, with an Intoner’s strength. Throws him into the couch, wrenches the blade away so quickly his wrist pops, and pins him into the backboard with her arm.

“Dito,” she says, her voice soft and honey-thick. Again, that fucking simpering reprimand: “Naughty boy.”

She has the blade, and twists it around so it presses into his eyelid. Her breath on his face. He can hear her tongue, sliding along the inside of her teeth. He thinks, for a moment, of if he’d succeeded. The blade shoved to the hilt into her temple. The wild spin of her eyes in their sockets. Black blood spilling onto his hand, wet and hot and smelling burnt and sweet like blackened caramel. He’d take it out, and stab her again. In her neck, so the blood would gush and spray. Open up her stomach. A pool of intestines. Sweet, burnt sugar.

_Naughty boy._

She jerks her hand away; there’s a shallow cut on his eyelid, spanning up to his forehead. She carefully moves away and he presses his knees together.

Queen of queens, as his plaything.

What a dream it’d be.


End file.
